


make you better

by whoisliina (isaacbahey)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, a bit of smut, jerome is a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaacbahey/pseuds/whoisliina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a trip to the supermarket, where the twins behave surprisingly well, they head home. Jerome lets the girls crawl over him on the sofa, only groaning a little bit, and Mario makes them pasta for dinner. When they sit at the table, facing each other, girls sitting right next to them, it starts to feel so fucking domestic and nice that Jerome is feeling a bit tingly again. He tries very very hard not to want to do this every day. </p>
<p>... or, Mario comes to Bayern and Jerome suddenly has a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make you better

**Author's Note:**

> Boatze is wonderful and i feel a lot of things so i smash my hands against a keyboard repeatedly.  
> An AU where WAGs don't exist, apparently.
> 
> Thank you to Luca for making me want to finish this! (:
> 
> Entirely fictional, obviously.
> 
> i am also gotzeidank on tumblr if you wanna. (:
> 
> (i am bad at notes)

Mario ends up under Jerome’s wing as soon as he first steps on the pitch in Säbenerstrasse.

It’s really not that big of a surprise – they know each other from earlier, speak the same language, aren’t, like, ten years apart and, to an extent, like the same things. So they have a lot to talk about, and their personalities match nicely. It’s easier to make friends with his new teammates with Jerome around – feels a bit less like being thrown into the deep end of the pool. Mario has other friends – David is always a laugh and there are very few people Thomas Müller does _not_ get along with – but Jerome feels like the first and closest among them all. Very quickly, it feels like Mario thinks of Jerome as his actual best friend. At least at Bayern. Overall, Jerome knows there’s still Marco who is what feels like a world away and makes Mario a bit sad every now and then.

Ironically enough, it’s Marco who strengthens Mario’s friendship with Jerome, without even doing anything.

Mario’s been in Munich for about a month when one day, Jerome thinks he looks like a sad puppy in the locker room and on the pitch. Jerome has always paid attention to how the boy is feeling – transfers can be a bit rough, besides he has already become protective of him – approaches him when they’re waiting in line to go through one of Pep’s crazy training exercises.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not even wasting time with it. Mario turns to him, only a little bit taken aback that his teammate is interested in why he is a heap of sadness today. After looking at Jerome with wide eyes for a few seconds, he sighs and goes back to his kicked-puppy expression.

“Just homesick,” he says. “Miss Dortmund a bit.”

Jerome nods knowingly, a little smile in one corner of his mouth.

“Marco, you mean,” he replies, and Mario looks a bit scandalised. It’s not like the friendship of the two of them was some sort of secret, but probably not everyone would have jumped to that conclusion straight away, especially with such certainty. Mario can’t argue, though, so he nods.

“Called him?” Jerome asks.

“Yeah, a few days ago. He’s still a bit upset, though. Can’t blame him,” Mario replies, his tone almost bitter, and Jerome wants to hug him a bit. He promises himself that he will, later.

“He’ll come to terms with it, soon,” he promises. “I’m sure he misses you just as much.”

Mario smiles a little bit sadly and turns back around – it’s his turn to go next. Jerome ruffles his hair a little bit to comfort him.

 

After practice, Jerome dresses slowly enough to be able to leave the locker room at the same time as Mario, who is taking his sweet time. The boy looks marginally less upset, but still a lot like he needs a cuddle.

“You wanna hang out?” Jerome offers and cringes inwardly at how teenager-y he sounds. “I mean, I have the rest of the day off, apart from bringing the girls home at some point. You could use some cheering up.”

And when Mario gets this vulnerable but hopeful little smile on his face, Jerome is beyond glad he got the words out.

“I’d love to,” Mario replies, as if his face didn’t already scream that, and Jerome ruffles his hair again. Mario actually laughs at that, and Jerome’s heart does a weird little jump at the sound.

Mario is already inarguably the single most endearing teammate he has ever had.

“We can take my car,” he offers, and Mario only casts one look at his own vehicle before nodding and following him. He settles into the passenger’s seat with a happy sigh and Jerome smiles at him before turning the radio on and starting the car.

 

“Make yourself at home and decide what you want for lunch,” Jerome tells Mario before going to his bedroom to swap his jeans for a pair of sweatpants. When he gets back, Mario is sitting in the middle of his couch, nose in his phone, typing away. When he hears Jerome’s footsteps, he lifts his head to say “Pizza. Pepperoni, please,” and then turns back to the device. Jerome chuckles as he takes his own phone from the counter he left it on when he arrived and orders two large pizzas. They’ve had plenty of exercise and the season is still only beginning, they can have a huge pizza each. Especially if it makes Mario happy. Then, he settles down next to Mario, who has put his phone away and leaned back on the couch, his eyes closed. He looks a bit sad again, so Jerome blames that face on the fact that he leans closer and wraps him up in his arms. Mario looks only mildly alarmed before smiling slightly.

“Stop being sad,” Jerome says, and Mario chuckles.

“Not that simple,” he replies, a little bitter. “But you’re helping.”

Jerome grins at him.

“Good,” he says and hugs Mario even tighter. Mario laughs again and suddenly hugs him back.

“Thanks,” he whispers, his voice a little shaky. Jerome only squeezes him in response.

They’re quiet for a while, just cuddling – there really is no better word for it – until the pizzas arrive. Jerome thinks Mario’s eyes are a little bit red, but he doesn’t bring it up.

 

Jerome is one hundred percent ready to set up his guest bedroom and let Mario sleep there, but when he says he should bring his daughters home from daycare soon, Mario asks him to drop him off back to Säbenerstrasse so he could get his car home. When Jerome eyes him carefully, Mario smiles a bit.

“I feel better, Jerome, honestly. I’ll be fine on my own,” he replies, and he does look better. So Jerome sighs and gives in. He drops him off in the parking lot of Säbenerstrasse and gets out of his car to hug Mario again.

“Call me if it gets bad again,” he says quietly, and Mario nods against his chest, hugging him tighter. When he pulls away, he looks a bit sheepish.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says quietly , backing away towards his car.

“Yeah, see you,” Jerome replies, a wide grin on his face. Mario smiles, too, before he disappears into his car.

That night, when he’s already in bed, Jerome gets a text from Mario.

_thank you so much. xx_

How is he supposed to deal with this cuteness?

_no problem. glad i could help. go to bed. x_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Since that afternoon, the amount of touching increases dramatically. Mario seeks him out sometimes, for a hug or a squeeze on the arm, and Jerome cannot keep himself from ruffling his hair, even though nine times out of ten, it annoys Mario. And once Marco apparently accepts the fact that his best buddy has left him to act out the part of newborn Judas as was surely his destiny all along, he decides to fraternize with the enemy and keep being Mario’s friend, so Mario is happier again and that makes Jerome happy, too.

Since Mario is a sucker for socialization and physical contact, he visits Jerome every now and then after training. It’s mostly lunch and talks and video games, and a cuddle sometimes when Mario feels homesick. Jerome totally understands that Mario is still getting used to his new club and a new town, and he does all he can to make it easier on the kid. Cuddles included.

Jerome doesn’t have bad days very often, but today is definitely one of them. He woke up with a pounding headache and a runny nose and forced himself through his morning routine and to training after he thought he felt better after a painkiller and a huge mug of tea. Of course, Mario notices his sorry state immediately.

“You look ill,” he says to Jerome instead of a greeting and gets a slightly tired smile as a response.

“Shush,” Jerome replies. “Bit of a runny nose, I’m fine.”

And he is, apart from the fact that he has to carry napkins to the pitch and Pep is glaring at him when he blows his nose for the hundredth time. He grins at the coach, and if Mario’s face is anything to go by, it made him look even worse, but Pep seems to let it slide, at least until the end of the training.

“Boateng!” he calls out when he lets everyone go, and Mario sends him a supporting glance. Jerome jogs to Pep, sniffling a bit.

“Are you okay?” Pep asks, still a bit careful with his German, and Jerome explains his state in simple terms: just a runny nose, he’s definitely good to start on the next match, and he’ll fix himself by tomorrow. Pep nods and waves him off, then.

Mario waits for him in the locker room, gets dressed even slower than usual, and on their way to the parking lot, he asks, “Want me to drive you home?”

Jerome glares at him, but due to his nose feeling like falling off, he's probably not very scary.

“It's a runny nose, Mar,” he says, shaking his head a little. “I am completely able to drive.”

Mario smiles and puts an arm around his waist – he can't comfortably reach Jerome's shoulders, which Jerome tries very hard not to find adorable.

“I know that, dumbass,” he says, and _wow, thanks for you all your concern, asshole_. He's about to protest when Mario adds, voice a lot softer, “Just... Let me give something back.” He's blushing and doesn't elaborate, but Jerome understands. He leans closer to Mario and smiles at him.

“Okay, then. Take me home,” he says, and Mario rolls his eyes but stays close, and Jerome is stupidly glad.

They drive to Jerome's place in Mario's car, Jerome blowing his nose every few minutes and nodding along to the music on the radio, Mario casting slightly worried looks in his direction every now and then. When they get there, Mario grabs Jerome's waist again, and Jerome can't help but grin.

Mario walks with him to his bedroom and gives him a strict order to lie down while he cooks something for lunch. Jerome doesn't take him very seriously, neither the order or the bit about cooking, but lies down anyway and putters around on his laptop until he smells toast from the other room. He walks to the kitchen and leans against the doorframe, watching Mario put sugar in two mugs and jump a little when two new toasts pop out of the toaster. He laughs at that and Mario jumps again.

“You're trying to give me a heart attack,” he says, shaking his head. “Sit down,” he adds then and puts the toast on a plate. There's a pack of cheese and some ham on the table, plus two mugs of steaming hot tea. Peppermint, it seems. Mario grins proudly, now, and Jerome wants to hug him a lot. It feels great to be cared for.

They grab all their stuff and head to the living room, where Jerome turns the TV on – to Cartoon Network.

“The girls,” he says as an explanation slash apology, but Mario shakes his head, laughing.

“Let it be,” he says, sipping his tea. Jerome smiles back and relaxes, balancing his plate on his stomach.

When they've finished, they put the dishes on the coffee table and before they've even acknowledged it, Jerome's head is on Mario's lap, Mario's hand slowly running through his hair.

“Thanks,” Jerome says a bit sleepily. “I'm feeling better already.”

Mario laughs and Jerome's head bobs up and down on his stomach.

“That's good,” he says, eyes on the TV. Jerome looks up at him for a while, and he's all eyelashes and fluffy hair and calm expression, and it makes him feel all warm and a bit tingly.

He only realises he fell asleep when he's being woken up very gently. Mario is shaking him carefully, whispering, “Jerome, it's almost five. The girls,” and Jerome is awake in a flash. He's slept with his head in Mario's lap for _two goddamn hours_ and Mario doesn't hate him yet.

“Sorry,” he says, and sounds very apologetic indeed. “Didn't plan that.”

Mario chuckles. “You needed it.”

Jerome grimaces anyway. “Were you super bored?” he asks, getting up from the sofa and Mario is smiling even wider.

“No, I had the TV. Also, I think I dozed off at some point, too.” Jerome realises Mario really doesn't have an issue with the whole napping in his lap thing, so his mind can go to more pressing matters.

“Crap,” he says from the hallway and sticks his head around the corner. “I'm so sorry, but I have no car and no time to go get it. Can you drive me there?” he says with his best puppydog eyes. Mario is already getting up, but Jerome feels the need to add: “You can drop us off to Säbenerstrasse on the way back... Or, I don't know, technically you could stay here tonight.” He's blushing by the time he's finished, but fortunately, Mario is smiling and not glaring at him as he's walking toward him to get his coat.

“Since you're so incredibly ill and need someone to cook for you and help you watch the kids?” he says, smirking, and Jerome laughs.

“Something like that, yeah. But also, like, repaying the favour for letting me have a nap.”

Mario blushes a bit, too, pulling a beanie over his hair. “I thought the nap was me repaying you for letting me sulk on your shoulder an embarrassing amount of times,” he says quietly, and Jerome smiles at him.

“You are always welcome to sulk here, Mario,” he says and Mario blushes deeper before grinning.

“You sap,” he says, shaking his head, and steps to the door.

The girls seem to like Mario pretty much instantly and are not even slightly alarmed that some strange new dude is driving them home. Jerome chats to them the whole way back, letting them talk about their day in two-year-olds' German. He sees Mario look at them in the rearview mirror a few times, a smile on his face. Jerome always smiles back.

After a trip to the supermarket, where the twins behave surprisingly well, they head home. Jerome lets the girls crawl over him on the sofa, only groaning a little bit, and Mario makes them pasta for dinner. When they sit at the table, facing each other, girls sitting right next to them, it starts to feel so fucking domestic and nice that Jerome is feeling a bit tingly again. He tries very very hard not to want to do this every day.

Mario shoves their dishes into the washer and turns around just in time to catch Lamia on one of their runs throughout the house. The girl giggles in his lap when he carries her back to the living room. There, Soley only takes one look at them before wanting to get up there as well,and suddenly, Mario has a two-year-old on each hip, hiding their faces in his neck. Jerome looks at them from the sofa, chin on the headrest, and kind of wishes he could do the same.

He disappears to the girls' room around 9.30 to put them to bed, and when he gets back, Mario is sitting on the sofa with a beer in his hand, watching a comedy, it appears. Jerome joins him after he's grabbed a beverage for himself, and for a while, it's quiet apart from the TV.

“They like you,” Jerome says then, smiling slightly. “Took me a while to shut them up. They wouldn't stop going on about you.”

Mario chuckles and takes a sip of his beer before replying. “The feeling's mutual. Although I cannot imagine how you manage with them every day. I mean, they're... Energetic.”

Jerome laughs, too. “I get friends to help out sometimes,” he says. “But I can usually handle them on the weekdays. Today I'm just a bit slow.”

He looks at Mario whose face is screaming _aren't you always?_ but instead of saying it out loud, he smiles widely and holds out a hand so Jerome can cuddle up to him again. He doesn't keep Mario waiting and settles down next to him, a smile on his face. Something in the back of his head is thinking about limits and feelings and if this is okay, but he's afraid of saying anything, because that might make this stop. So, instead, they sit there, cuddling, until the guy gets the girl on the screen and the credits start rolling and Mario starts yawning.

“Wanna go to bed?” Jerome asks and Mario nods a bit sheepishly. Jerome leads him to the guest bedroom, hands him a new toothbrush and gives him one of his shirts to sleep in. He brushes his own teeth and tiptoes past the door. Mario is in his boxers and Jerome's shirt, looking at his phone.

“Good night,” Jerome says to him, and Mario smiles, getting up.

“Good night,” he replies, looking cuddly and soft.

It takes Jerome a while to fall asleep – first because he keeps wanting to go to the other room, and then because that thought terrifies him.

 

* * *

 

Alcohol makes Jerome flirty.

If he’d known alcohol also makes Mario flirty, he would’ve never touched that beer his Dad offered him when he was 10 so he’d get the taste without the partying. He would’ve never touched a drink in his goddamn life.

Because right now, they are at a Bayern party and Mario is dangerously close to him, and he keeps getting closer, and Philipp has been staring at them and frowning for a while now, and Jerome finds it incredibly hard to think of reasons to not carry on what they’re doing right now.

What they’re doing right now is dancing along to some upbeat dance song, except they’re more swaying than anything else, not quite touching but almost, and Mario has got a happy drunk smile on his face and he’s been looking up at him for at least a minute now, and there is a spark in his eyes that makes Jerome both uneasy and excited.

The song changes to something just as upbeat but more intimate, and Mario turns his back to him. His back is inches away from Jerome’s chest, and he knows how to move his hips, and Fips is narrowing his eyes. Usually, when he pulls that face, it’s smart to stop, but Jerome is incredibly far from smart right now. Because every careful thought and worry has been wiped away by alcohol, and all that remains is this need to be close and put his hands on Mario’s hips. He does just that, ignoring Fips’ sour face, and Mario leans his head back to put it on Jerome’s shoulder and grin at him.

Jerome looks at his face, a bit sweaty from alcohol and dancing and close proximity, and it’s still a very nice face. A face that Jerome would like to kiss, probably. He never would if he was sober – way too much is at stake – but he doesn’t think about friendships and sexualities and consequences right now. If Mario were willing, Jerome would kiss him right now.

Mario lifts his head again, continues swaying to the music, his ass very very _very_ close to Jerome’s crotch, and because he has lost all control of his brain-to-mouth filter, Jerome bends down and whispers into Mario’s ear, “If you keep this up, I’m taking you home with me.”

Mario looks up at that, his mouth in a surprised O, and then a smile sneaks on his face. He turns around again, wraps his arms around Jerome’s neck and stops swaying. They just stand there, bodies pressed against each other from chest to hips, and does this mean what Jerome thinks it means? He stares at Mario incredulously, and the boy just smiles and says, like a challenge, “Go on, then.”

Jerome keeps staring at him, waiting him to laugh and say he was joking, but Mario doesn’t do that. Instead, he lets his arms slide down to Jerome’s waist.

“Are you sure?” Jerome asks, because this is potentially a very big deal, and Jerome absolutely needs Mario to be sure.

Mario only grins like he isn’t driving Jerome absolutely crazy right now and says, “You promised.”

“God damn it, Mario,” Jerome says and grabs his hand. A part of his brain is screaming in panic now, because honestly, what the hell is going on right now and what will it lead to, but Jerome drowns it with a shot of vodka from the nearest table. He doesn’t care whose it is. Then, he goes to the wardrobe while ordering a cab, Mario still very willingly tagging along, and they get dressed while staring at each other, and Mario is still not revealing it was a joke all along. Instead, when he’s buttoned his coat, he leans closer to Jerome again, looks up at him with the biggest puppydog eyes and then smiles at Jerome like he hung the moon or some shit. He’s drunk off his ass and Jerome should care, but he doesn’t, because he is also drunk off his ass. That last shot is kicking in now.

They stumble outside together when the taxi comes, and clumsily climb into the car, and Mario leans his head on Jerome’s shoulder. This is entirely normal for them, something they do all the time, but now, it’s more than cuddling on the couch, it’s something huge and terrifying. Jerome puts his hand on Mario’s knee, and when Mario doesn’t stop him, moves it upwards, inch by inch. Mario lets out a lovely little sound, too happy to be a whimper, and lets his head fall back. Jerome looks into the rearview mirror, to make sure they’re unseen, and leans over to press his lips to Mario’s neck, a part that his haphazardly wrapped scarf isn’t covering. Mario makes that noise again, and fuck, when will they get there?

Finally, they do, with their pants somehow still on, and Jerome can’t throw money at the driver fast enough. Then, he wraps an arm around Mario’s waist and together, with slightly uneasy steps, they walk up to the house. While Jerome tries to fit the goddamn key into the lock, Mario presses himself up against him from behind, his hands low on Jerome’s stomach. “Come on,” he says, apparently as impatient as Jerome is, and finally, _fucking finally_ the door opens.

They throw their clothes on the ground in the hallway and Jerome sends a quick thank you to his past self for having the nanny collect the girls instead of staying here with them. When they’re in their shirts and jeans, Jerome takes Mario’s hand again and guides him to the bedroom.

Holy shit, Mario is in his bedroom.

To not freak out, Jerome turns to Mario, cups his cheeks, stares at him intensely.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, and Mario nods eagerly even though his face is trapped in Jerome’s hands, and that’s it. Jerome isn’t gonna ask any more. Instead, he kisses Mario.

It’s not the first kiss he _absolutely has not_ dreamt of, but it’ll do, because it’s Mario against him, it’s Mario seemingly all around him, and Jerome’s knees feel a bit weak, though that might be the alcohol. And Mario is kissing him back so eagerly, like he actually likes this, like he loves it, and his hands are gripping Jerome’s hips, and _fuck_. This is actually happening.

Jerome leads them to his bed and they manage to get there without falling over, and now Jerome is looking down at Mario but it is so different, it is _worlds away_ from the usual. Before his head gets weird, Jerome kisses Mario, more passionately than before. Mario groans through it, and Jerome’s hands are shaking, arms are shaking, heart is shaking.

Mario tugs at his shirt and Jerome breaks away from him for long enough to throw it off, then does the same to Mario’s. He kisses a trail down Mario’s neck, noses at his necklaces, hands travelling downward. Mario’s fingers are in his hair and he’s breathing heavily already, some of his exhales turning into quiet moans. Jerome pops open the button of his jeans while kissing his chest, and downward, and then he slips the jeans off. He gets rid of his pants, too, and then returns to Mario, who has been staring at him the whole time, his eyes dark. Jerome hovers above him again, just looking at the boy beneath him in wonder, and apparently Mario is impatient, because he bucks his hips and their dicks are rubbing together, separated only by two layers of cotton, and Jerome groans. Mario laughs breathlessly at that, and Jerome kisses him again, wildly, grinding down now.

Not before long, Mario’s fingers sneak under the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. Jerome’s breath catches, because that’s another step forward, and they’ve already walked a hell of a long way tonight. Mario is adamant, though, so Jerome helps him, takes his own off first and then, leaving kisses on his thighs, slides Mario’s down, as well. He’s not ready for this, he’s so unprepared. Why would he be prepared, anyway? As if he ever honestly thought this day would come. He’s not sure what to do, how far he can go, until Mario’s fingers close around his dick and yes, _this_ he can definitely do. He kisses Mario again, bites on his lower lip when Mario starts moving his hand excruciatingly slowly, his fingers drawing patterns on Mario’s stomach, until they reach Mario’s dick and when Mario throws his head back again, moans louder than he has before, Jerome is way too far gone.

It’s… intense. It’s almost too much, jerking each other in the same rhythm, staring into each other’s eyes from just inches away, not kissing, just letting their lips touch every now and then. Jerome leans his forehead against Mario’s, closes his eyes when it gets too much, and he feels he’s about to explode, and not only because Mario is apparently amazing at handjobs. Actually, it’s mostly just the fact that he’s _here_ , closer to him than Jerome could have ever hoped, moaning at something Jerome is doing to him. Jerome is making him pull these beautiful faces, let out these beautiful sounds, and that is too much for him to take. Before his thoughts get too close to how fucking in love with this boy he is, he comes, shuddering, Mario’s name on his lips. Mario replies with a moan and follows shortly after.

Jerome falls down next to Mario, brain full of bliss and _wediditohshitwedidit_ , and almost without thinking hands Mario a napkin. Mario takes it from him, a dazed expression on his face, and when he’s clean, or at least cleanish, he kisses Jerome again. Slowly, this time, calmly. Jerome’s entire body is tingling, from his stomach to his goddamn toes, and when Mario pulls away, he smiles. Mario smiles back brightly.

Jerome wakes up with not the nastiest headache he’s ever had, his blanket loosely draped over him, his legs out from under it because the room is warm. Jerome looks up at the ceiling for a while before he registers another person breathing in the room. His head whips to the side and when he sees Mario sleeping next to him, his hair messy, the blanket barely covering him, looking like a marble statue, everything rushes back to Jerome and he feels like lying down except he’s already doing that. He realises he’s very much naked and thinks it’s safe to guess that Mario is, too.

If this were Mario’s place, Jerome would sneak out, hoping Mario doesn’t remember a thing, because wow, they were fucking idiots last night. Reckless, stupid, inconsiderate. But this is his house and he’s not gonna sneak out from here. Can’t. All he _can_ do, really, is wake Mario up, see what he remembers, and figure out what to do about it.

When he puts his hand on Mario’s shoulder, the images from last night come rushing back. Mario gasping for breath underneath him, looking at him with wonder in his eyes, looking so fucking beautiful that it still hurts now that Jerome is sober and back to his senses. Even if Mario has forgotten everything about last night, how can Jerome carry on being friends if a simple touch hits him in the guts so strong?

But he has to wake Mario up, otherwise he’ll freak out completely. He shakes Mario gently and calls his name, his voice hoarse. Mario’s eyes blink open slowly and then fly open all the way as he sits up, dragging the blanket over himself.

“Oh,” he says quietly, and Jerome tries very hard not to let his stomach drop, because it doesn’t sound like a disappointed “oh”, more like a confused one. Jerome looks at him, trying not to seem too nervous, and replies, “Yeah.” Mario keeps staring at him and swallows, and the silence drags on while they both inwardly freak out.

“Should we talk about this?” Mario finally asks, sounding weak and helpless, and Jerome wants to say “do we have to?”, but that would be childish and unhelpful. They need to talk, otherwise it’s going to be this thing between them that they’ll never get over, and Jerome is completely not ready to let this friendship fall to shit because they were drunk morons and… exchanged handjobs. It’s even difficult to admit that to himself.

He nods as an answer, and Mario nods, too. There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Mario says, his tone determined with a hint of bitterness, not meeting Jerome’s eyes, “But we’re gonna be honest, okay? I don’t want this to snowball into an American rom-com type of disastrous misunderstanding. We can be honest, yeah? We’re close enough to not say bullshit to each other.” And Jerome is terrified of that, but what Mario is saying makes sense.

Confessing he has feelings for his best friend was not how he planned on doing, but apparently that’s going to happen.

Mario is breathing quickly, still not looking at Jerome, not saying anything, so Jerome just starts talking, his heart feeling like it might fall out of his mouth, too.

“Okay, fuck. I think I have feelings for you?” he begins and is almost unable to continue talking because _of fucking course_ Mario looks up and at him now, looking absolutely terrified, and Jerome wants to cry a little bit, but he’s promised to be honest, and he has to be. He looks away, because eye contact would be too intense.

“We instantly clicked when you moved here, and in the beginning, it was honestly just a friends thing. I’ve never fallen in–” he cuts himself off, because what he was about to say is _way_ too much for this conversation. “I’ve never had feelings for a guy before, so it terrified me in the beginning, when I just… Wanted to keep you close to me. But I couldn’t stay away, because even without the whole feelings thing, you are an amazing person and I didn’t want to let go of you. I guess that’s a bit selfish or something, but…”

He runs out of words, because he’s very close to apologizing for his crush and breaking down and god damn it, it might be a lot of drama, but he is _not_ sorry for what he feels. Since Mario is still looking a bit shocked and very, very unsure, Jerome adds, “I’m not sure what you think about last night, but please, Mario… I don’t want it to drive us apart, okay?”

He wants to hug Mario so bad right now, not even because of what he feels for him, but because their hugs have always been comforting for them both and God, does Jerome need comforting right now. But he doesn’t think Mario wants hugs right now – not from him, anyway – so he just looks back up at him, his arms aching to have that boy in them, and it’s so fucking difficult.

Mario looks back at him, his lower lip trembling, and Jerome is so scared he’s broken the boy, that he’s hurt him with his lack of control, and he feels like shit for it. He’s older, he should be responsible, and last night he dragged Mario to bed without thinking. Mario bravely looks at him for a while, then lets his head fall, shaking it.

“I’m straight,” he whispers and then looks up again. “I mean, I thought I was! I’ve never wanted a guy like that. Never. But I wanted _you_ last night.”

The need to hug him intensifies, but Jerome still doesn’t move. He’s scared that if they touch, he’ll cry his goddamn eyes out, and he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to cry in front this beautiful, amazing boy. He looks at Mario, who’s still looking brave despite the fact he seems to be on the verge of crying as well, and it becomes clearer and clearer how deep his feelings actually are.

“And I like you, I mean… We haven’t been some best bros and buddies this past few months. This, us, is nothing like any other friendship I’ve ever had. And, like, maybe that says something about me, that I never thought twice about just fucking cuddling up with you, and…” He stops with a frustrated sigh and hides his face in his hands. Apparently, this is a sexuality crisis more than anything else, and he’s ashamed to be a tiny bit relieved, because Mario is obviously messed up about this. He can’t even think of anything to say, because his sexuality came naturally to him and gay panic (or, well, bi panic, to be precise) is something he hasn’t experienced yet.

“I don’t know,” Mario says, looking up again. “I don’t know what I feel or…” His lip starts trembling again. “Fuck,” he whispers, and throws himself at Jerome. He wraps his arms around Jerome’s neck, hugs him so, so tight. Jerome holds him close, only the blanket separating their still-naked bodies, and runs his fingers through Mario’s hair. He can feel it when Mario starts crying, and fuck, he never meant to do this. He never wanted to hurt him like this.

“Sssshhh…” he whispers. “Mario, I know it’s confusing, but don’t cry, okay? You’ll figure all of this out, I promise. I’m sorry for pushing you.”

Mario pulls back, his red-rimmed eyes wide, and shakes his head.

“No, Jerome, don’t say that. Don’t be sorry for last night. Don’t be sorry, don’t…” He breaks down again, hides his face into Jerome’s neck, and Jerome finally cries, too.

“I’m not sorry for what we did,” he says through tears. “Mario, I’ve… I’ve wanted you for ages, of course I’m not sorry for _that_ ,” he assures Mario, fingers in his hair, swaying from side to side. That confession slips out so much easier for some reason. “I’m just sorry it hurt you like this.”

After that, they don’t say anything for a while, just sit there until Mario pulls away, still looking sad.

“Give me some time to figure this out, okay? I wanna be sure of everything. Besides, there’s so much more stuff to consider, our careers and the media and the twins and…” He sighs again and shakes his head slightly. “A few days. Let me just… unscramble this mess.” Jerome nods quickly, smiling just a little bit at how Mario remembered the twins even during this mess.

“Of course, Mario, take all the time you want,” he says. Mario smiles weakly, so maybe he’s not entirely broken, after all. Maybe they can actually work this out without casualties.

It’s a bit weird that they have to find their boxers after this draining conversation, and then the rest of their clothes. Confess your love naked, that’s one to check off the bucket list. Mario hugs him again at the door, wrapped up in his coat, and Jerome presses a kiss into his hair and understands what Mario said about not being normal best friends. Mario doesn’t protest, though, just smiles weakly again.

“I’ll call you,” he says before turning to leave.

Jerome sits down with back against the door once Mario is gone and considers just sitting here until he does call, but… life. Jerome has a life outside of Mario, too. He needs to bring his daughters home, maybe clean the house.

Despite this fucking stupid drama, he needs to keep going.

 

 

* * *

 

Mario doesn’t call.

Instead, he shows up at Jerome’s door three days later, looking tired and still a bit sad, but his nose and cheeks are red from the cold and maybe it’s also because Jerome hasn’t seen him in three days, but he looks so fucking beautiful that all the feelings hit him like a train again. He just stares at Mario in wonder, not even thinking to call him in, until the boy starts talking.

“I missed you like hell,” he says, and his cheeks get even redder somehow.

“For the past three days I’ve wanted nothing more than to just come back here and stay, just… Cuddled up with you.” He bites his lip, shakes his head slightly.

“I don’t want this to be some cheesy speech like in stupid movies, I just… I don’t know. I’m still a bit confused about everything, but I do know that I want to be with you, and I think I have feelings for you too, then?” He looks up at Jerome again, and Jerome is trying his hardest not to melt into a fucking puddle right then and there. Slowly, very-very slowly, he smiles, and Mario mirrors his expression. Jerome closes his eyes for a second, shakes his head and steps closer to Mario. He moves so slowly that if Mario wanted, he could back away, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move when Jerome lifts his hands, puts them to Mario’s cheek. He doesn’t move when Jerome leans in, looks at him with fire burning in his eyes.

He only moves when Jerome kisses him gently, and it’s only to kiss him back and wrap his arms around Jerome’s waist.

Jerome’s head is spinning. Yeah, he wanted this to happen more than anything, but that doesn't make the fact it’s actually happening any less insane. Mario is here, and he has feelings for him, too, and he wants to be with Jerome, too, and he’s kissing Jerome passionately, without alcohol to make him lose his mind. It is everything to him. It’s all so much that Jerome has to break away soon and just look at Mario like he’s the single most precious thing on Earth and smile wider than he ever has, probably. Mario smiles back, every trace of sadness wiped from his face, and he’s still so beautiful that Jerome kisses him again before taking his hand to guide him inside.

When he’s closed the door and turned back to Mario, the boy is looking at him adoringly.

“So…” Mario starts with a smile. “We’re dating, now?”

Jerome smiles at him and decides to forget about how footballers should be straight and how the magazines would eat them alive and how he’s not a single dad, but a dad with a boyfriend all of a sudden. None of that matters, not now.

“Yep,” he says with a grin, and Mario grins back, and after everything it’s that simple.


End file.
